


Cake

by Elsinore_and_Inverness



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Cake, Birthday Presents, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-19
Updated: 2017-09-19
Packaged: 2018-12-31 17:08:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12137166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsinore_and_Inverness/pseuds/Elsinore_and_Inverness
Summary: Sherlock and John and Molly go to get cake after The Lying Dectective





	Cake

'He's wearing the hat.' Molly observed.

She was sitting at a table in the corner of the cake shop, a somewhat hastily gift wrapped box on the seat beside her.

'I like that hat.'

'Do you?' John wondered. He was standing next to Sherlock, his hair damp. 

The pink light fixture on the low ceiling was reflected in the water droplets that stood out on Sherlock's wool hat, pulled low over his dark curls.   
Sherlock looked uncertain. He took the hat off and inspected it, 'Do you like the hat?'

John nodded. An incremental inclination of his head.

Sherlock put the hat on the back of the chair opposite Molly, and sat down.

Molly was distressed to see his left eye was dark and bloodshot and traces of bruising around his nose and mouth.

'You look awful.'

'Nice to see you too.' 

'I mean you look like you feel awful- You're not-' Molly muttered incomprehensibly for a few seconds, embarrassed.

John sat down beside him.

Molly shook her head, still looking at Sherlock 'Don't ever do that to yourself again.' She frowned. Her scientist's eye noticing something. 'Actually- the nature of some of those contusions is inconsistent with-'

'Stop.' Sherlock whispered.

'Sorry.'

They sat without speaking for a few moments, John flipping noisily through the menu.

'Happy birthday, Sherlock.' Molly said finally.

'Thank you.'

'Which one is it?'

'I- Uh- I-' Sherlock stared at the grain of the wood of the table, as though that would tell him, 'What year is it?'

'You're forty.' John informed him.

'Forty? Why is this something we celebrate?'

'At risk of sounding mawkishly sentimental, it's about celebrating... You.'

Sherlock blinked rapidly, then stopped. His eyes hurt.

'Me?' Sherlock was holding onto the edge of the table in an attempt to ignore the tremor in his hands.

John reached over and put his hand on Sherlock's. He let go of the table. 

A waiter approached them.

'Which cake do you want?' John asked.

'I- Do I- What one do you want?'

'It's your birthday, Sherlock.'

'Oh. The chocolate one, then.' He said with a strange, shy satisfaction. 

The waiter expressed his agreement.

'He likes cake?' Molly asked of Sherlock.

'They both like cake.'

Sherlock, half-pretending, scanned the room for possible cameras.

'Mycroft likes it more. Or at least enough to steal it from... When we were younger, he always used to-'

'That sounds awful.'

'It was alright. I considered it a value judgement. It was worth more to him than it was to me.'  
'Is that what he told you?'

Sherlock shrugged, somehow seeming small and young.

'So-' Molly interrupted, 'January sixth. Twelfth Night.'

Sherlock nodded.

'The same birthday as Joan of Arc.'

'And Richard II.' Sherlock added.

'Who?'

'King Richard II. Deposed English monarch. Fourteenth century. Died in captivity. Never really found out why.' The pace of Sherlock's speech pattern was increasing.

'No signs of violence on the skeleton, although it hasn't been exhumed since 1871. Might be missing something. Most people say he starved to death. Well, not most people obviously. Most people don't say anything. Thing is he had a pretender. After he died. King Henry paraded his body through the streets, but at the same time, he never quite believed he was dead. Every time he got wind of what the pretender was up to he couldn't help wondering if maybe he had got it wrong. Even though he'd seen the body. Even though he may have been the one that gave the command that had him killed...'  
It was clear what Sherlock was really talking about.

'Not now, Sherlock.' Molly sighed.

'Why not? Why not now?'

Just then the waiter returned with the cake and a candle.

The waiter lit the candle, and Sherlock fell silent, watching the dancing flame.

He finally allowed himself to admit that for the first time in weeks he felt warm. And almost safe. 

Molly started singing and to his surprise, so did John. He looked between them in confusion. He felt more than warm now. His wan face was flushed. 

'Happy birthday, dear Sherlock, happy birthday to you!'

'You're supposed to blow out the candle.' John whispered.

Sherlock did so. Dark smoke curling up into the air.

'Candle smoke has such a particular odor.' John observed, idly.

'I got you something.' Molly said.

'Hmm?'

Molly picked up the box on the chair next to her.  
'Bought recently. Within the past two hours. But you wrapped it yourself. You went to the shop immediately after hearing from John and then returned home to wrap it. There's a closet in your front hall where you keep leftover wrapping paper from-'

'Just open the present, Sherlock.' John interceded.

'Sorry.' Sherlock tore the wrapping paper off the box. 'A digital microscope?'

Molly nodded. 'It's a bit of a strain on the eyes to squint into a lens all day.'

'Thank you, Molly.'

'You're welcome.' 

'I didn't get you a present.' John said awkwardly.

'Yes, you did.' Sherlock insisted, seriously.

'I did?'

'You're paying for the cake, remember?'

'Oh.' John laughed. It was a good sound. Sherlock had missed it.


End file.
